Here she sprawls in my lap, forcing her lanky legs to drape over the chair’s arm;
her long torso bent to conform to the space within my own, and her stretch of arms wrap around my shoulders as she utters the words we pray every night.
Here she sprawls in my lap, trying to be my baby still.
Silly girl – she should know she always will!

HA! And yet, you married a girl w/ all the answers. Ain’t life a deal?
Okay, here’s my whack at your challenge, Ducky:

Once They Were Girls

My dad stood there,
Gazing in wonder
At the body in its narrow bed,
Satin-lined.
Pretty wrinkled and worn it was,
After eighty-one years of life,
A life full of wifing, mothering,
And typing, too.
“Once,” said my young-then old man,
“She was a brown-haired girl,
Running barefoot for the fun of it,
Down a summer-dusty road.”

Has me thinking now
Of all those icons –
Iconettes?
Paraded before our eyes,
Those photos black & white,
Every month of March
To remind us to remember
The History of Women.
Gaunt, bespectacled Susan B.
And plump Mrs. Stanton,
Finally injustice- and fat-free.
Smooth-faced Bessie Coleman,
Grounded, gone, up home to heaven.
Cleopatra. Empress Theodora.
All the usual suspects
All had been fleet, giggly,
And brave. Hands aloft
For their daddies to pick them up
Once they were girls.